


Beheld

by fatal_drum



Series: Charity Ficlets 2020 [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Abuse of Beholding Powers, Bottom Peter Lukas, Elias is James Wright at the time, Grooming, M/M, Peter Lukas whump, Top Elias Bouchard, teenage Peter Lukas, victim withdraws consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25204051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: On a visit to Moorland House, Jonah finds himself intrigued by the boy staring at him from behind the staircase.Getting caught is only the first of Peter's mistakes.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Peter Lukas/James Wright
Series: Charity Ficlets 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804192
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69





	Beheld

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for Prim_the_Amazing, who supported the Community Justice Exchange. Prim is also an amazing writer, check them out! <3

Jonah catches the Lukas boy staring at him from behind a staircase. A brief glimpse inside the boy’s mind gives him a name: Peter. How very traditional. Jonah pretends not to see him watching, even as he drinks in the details of his appearance. He looks to be about sixteen and tall for his age, with broad shoulders and strong arms. His steel grey eyes are alight with more than simple curiosity. Jonah doesn’t miss the way the boy’s eyes catch on his shoulders and the curve of his arse. James Wright may be past his prime, but his frame isn’t without appeal.

“Are you going to introduce yourself, or keep staring?” Jonah asks without turning around. 

The boy freezes in place like a deer in the headlights, his eyes widening as Jonah steps closer. 

“I’m James Wright, head of the Magnus Institute,” Jonah says. 

Peter suppresses a moue of distaste, poorly. Jonah finds himself utterly charmed. “Peter Lukas,” he says eventually. 

Jonah fixes him with a warm smile. “A pleasure."

A hint of color rises in Peter’s cheeks; a lifetime of neglect has left him vulnerable to praise. It’s a lesson Mordechai learned early, but clearly one his scions have yet to grasp. 

“What are you doing here?” Peter asks, suspicion clear on his face. 

Jonah’s smile widens. “I’m a guest of your grandfather’s. He didn’t mention I was coming?”

Peter gives a silent shrug.

“I suppose not,” Jonah says dryly. “I would take it as a great kindness if you were to show me to his study.”

Peter gives him a long, distrusting look before finally ascending the stairs, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure Jonah is following. Jonah can see him visibly restraining himself from looking back again as he leads him to Nathaniel’s study. Silence is a weapon that can cut both ways; Jonah wields it as he follows Peter, letting the boy’s curiosity and anxiety build. Finally Peter stops and gestures to a heavy oak door, looking visibly relieved.

“Thank you,” Jonah says, holding out his hand. 

Peter stares at his hand as if it were a snake. After a long moment, he extends his own, watching as Jonah lifts it and brushes a kiss against the back. Peter recoils hastily, eyes wide with shock. His pale cheeks are stained red. He looks as if he is going to say something, but instead, he turns and rushes down the hall, disappearing in a wisp of fog. 

* * *

Jonah makes a habit of visiting Moorland House more often. After all, looking after Institute donors is an important aspect of his work. If he always happens to arrive when Peter is at home, so much the better. Gradually he entices Peter to share more about himself: his childhood, his meanderings around the English countryside, and his induction into Forsaken. This last subject is a particular favorite of Peter’s, though Jonah suspects Peter is less dedicated than he likes to believe. The boy responds too well to Jonah’s praise and attention to be as cold as he wants to think he is. 

During their meetings, Jonah makes a point of touching Peter in small ways. A hand on his wrist. A knee brushing against his thigh. At first Peter recoils, but eventually he leans into the touches, and even initiates his own. 

“You know,” Jonah says conversationally, “I’ve never seen your room.”

Peter bites his lip, and Jonah knows he understands what is being offered. “I—well. It’s only polite to show you, isn’t it?”

Jonah agrees, and Peter leads him to a small bedroom tucked away in a forgotten corner of the manor. Little chance of being interrupted by a prying guardian. If they’d even care—he suspects the Lukas approach to parenting is rather _laissez-faire._ Peter’s room is more or less what Jonah expected: a spartan interior with a wide, lonely bed. The shelves are decorated with odds and ends, objects of Peter’s magpie curiosity: a bird’s nest; chunks of quartz and agate gathered from the estate; a brass bosun's whistle. There are few books, though Jonah is pleased to see Peter has followed his reading recommendations. 

“Well, this is it,” Peter says awkwardly. “Not very interesting, I’m afraid.”

Jonah takes a step closer, then another. Peter’s lips are parted, his breath coming rapidly as Jonah cups his chin. 

“I want to see you,” Jonah murmurs, leaning in close. He pauses to give Peter an opportunity to move away, letting the tension build, before finally claiming his mouth.

Peter makes a soft, broken noise. His hands tangle in Jonah’s hair as he returns the kiss hungrily, letting Jonah push him onto the bed. 

“James—” he says, brow furrowed. 

Jonah quiets him with a finger on his lips, and Peter allows Jonah to undress him, exposing his broad chest and muscular thighs. A tremor spreads over Peter’s body as Jonah touches him. Jonah doesn’t need to look in his mind to know he’s untouched, though he looks anyway. It’s gratifying to see how often Peter has fantasized about this, about being taken roughly in his own bed. Jonah is more than happy to fulfill his desires. 

Peter seems to take it as a mercy when Jonah turns him onto his belly. Jonah allows him his delusions. There isn't any proper lubricant, only a stolen bottle of hand cream, but Jonah makes do, licking Peter open with long strokes of his tongue until he's swearing and clawing the sheets. Jonah can tell Peter had no idea such things were possible. He plans to show Peter so much more. 

“Are you ready?” Jonah purrs in Peter’s ear. He doesn’t truly care if Peter is, but he wants to hear him say it.

“Yes…" Peter whispers. 

As Jonah slides inside Peter’s tight, willing body, he calls his patron to witness their union. 

Peter stiffens under him. “What are you—?”

Jonah shushes him again, pushing in all the way to the hilt. Peter cries out, startled. He thrusts in again, harder this time, until Peter is a panting mess under him, unable to form a single coherent sentence. 

“I see you, Peter Lukas,” Jonah whispers in his ear. “I see every part of you. Your hopes and fears. Your strengths and your flaws. I see a boy trying so desperately to be a man. To earn his family’s approval. But the harder you try, the further it slips away, doesn’t it?”

“J-james—”

Jonah grips Peter’s hips, ignoring Peter’s protests. “The Eye sees you, Peter. The Eye is watching you even now. Let me show you.” 

He seizes Peter by the hair, forcing him to look at the mirror on the wall. He knows Peter can see the Eye behind it, the gaze bearing down on him, examining each pore of his skin, each cell in his body. Jonah thrusts faster, and he can see Peter’s cock twitch even as his eyes widen in horror. 

“Please stop,” Peter begs, his voice thick with unshed tears. 

Jonah laughs and reaches between his thighs, stroking his dripping cock until he stops talking. 

“You knew what I was, Peter. You _wanted_ this. Wanted to be seen, to be touched. To be _known._ You can’t blame me for giving you what you wanted.”

Jonah bites down on Peter's shoulder until he tastes blood, savoring the sensation of Peter tightening around him. "You'll never be alone, Peter. Not really. The Eye will always know where you are. There's no escaping it."

He strokes Peter more firmly, rubbing his thumb beneath the head, until Peter comes with a choked cry. He doesn’t slow his movements, ignoring the overstimulated gasps from below him. The Eye presses around them from all sides, enveloping them in the completeness of its gaze. Jonah drinks in Peter’s horror until the pleasure becomes unbearable, and he shoves in to the hilt, groaning with satisfaction as he fills him with come. 

He kisses Peter between the shoulder blades, watching him shudder. His whole body shakes as silent tears stream down his face.

“Thank you, Peter,” Jonah murmurs, pulling back to watch his come leak from Peter’s stretched, abused hole. He knows Peter will be sore for days afterwards. He looks forward to watching. “I imagine you’ll want to be alone now.”

He stands and puts his clothing to rights, admiring Peter's unmoving form. 

"I'll be seeing you," he promises.

The sound of Peter’s sobs follows him from the room. Jonah smiles. 

This won’t be the last he sees of the Lukas boy.


End file.
